The Laws Of Attraction
by KoolJack1
Summary: Hannibal/Abigail. Hannibal and Abigail share a moment, and Hannibal attempts to identify what exactly is going on.
1. Human

The girl doesn't fear him, he can't smell anything like that on her. Yet, standing so close he can smell something else. It's familiar, often sensed in a session with a patient discussing troubles with a loved one. _Love_, he's identified this sent in the past. Humans are acutely unaware of just how powerful their emotions are. Especially this one, love is potent. It intrigues him the slightly different tang he picks up on from relationship to relationship. Parents discussing their children is one that doesn't intrigue him as deeply, he can almost bring his mind to comprehend that affection. It's the love that transfers between two people who don't have any real reason to feel such a strong emotion for one another. He knows how to make people trust him, even like him. It comes naturally to his territory, but he's never allowed himself to charm anyone further. He settles for their trust and at times friendship, but is careful not to give any indication that they should pry into him any further. Simply a thoughtful, quiet, intelligent man that doesn't run much deeper; that's the character he's chosen for himself.

This girl though, he can't understand the scent she's admitting now. She's looking at him, right in the eye, no fear. She doesn't feel the danger, but she does feel something else. She moves a little closer and he looks down at her hand that is mere inches from his leg, then back to her eyes again.

"Dr. Lector," her voice is quiet. This wasn't part of his plan, not in the slightest. He underestimated himself, and he wasn't careful to control the level of attraction she might have to him. If he were capable, he'd feel guilty. "Why aren't you married?"

He smiles slightly, for good measure. She smiles too, mirroring him. "My life is complete as it is, I've never had the desire to start a family."

She looks away from him, looking around his den. "You would have made a great father." Her statement throws him off balance. A child, sitting here on his couch in his den, is making him _feel_ things. See, they're wrong. His type isn't incapable of feeling, they are incapable of expressing them, or experiencing them as others do. He doesn't know what love feels like, but he has had the image painted for him time and time again. It's hopeful, optimistic, dangerous. He only knows what danger feels like. He's asked before what makes someone love someone else, and the answers are all the same. There isn't one, the person just has a rush of chemicals and hormones around another person and they call it love. He can practically feel her hormones flooding her body, all in response to him. He didn't know he was capable of doing that to someone. The power makes his fingers twitch.

She turns to face him, repositioning herself on the couch so their knees are touching. For the sake of being human, he knows the proper way to handle this situation is to move back and put distance between them. He knows, logically, her feelings are a reaction to her trauma; a form of transference. He knows, logically, that their age gap makes this even worse in societies eyes. He even knows, and surprisingly understands, that she is capable of feeling things for him since she is blissfully unaware that he isn't capable of ever returning the feelings. Yet, he keeps eye contact, his head cocked a bit to the side in curiosity. He's too interested to move away. His nature tells him this is a girl no one is looking for, no one would really miss. He could make it look like a suicide, or a homicide committed by one of the many that hate her for her father's actions. Hate, he never grasped that either. Yet, he feels no desire to harm her, though it would be his easiest one yet.

Her hand finds his knee, "You're so incredibly interesting, I don't understand how you don't have women all over you." He knows her words should make him feel something, since she is trying to seduce him. But she has no idea just how interesting he is.

"You're responding to your traumatic experiences, Abigail." Her face falls and she retracts her hands as if he hit her. He watches her closely, sensing the anger that has joined her feelings of admiration.

"Who are you to tell me what I'm feeling is or isn't real?"

He remains calm, "I didn't say they weren't real feelings, I'm telling you you're feeling them because of what happened."

She gets up, pacing in frustration. "How do you even know what I'm feeling?"

He can sense it, "I spent my entire life learning to understand human emotions and behavior, what you're feeling is a rather easy one." He can't bring himself to name the feeling she is having.

Suddenly, she's back to sitting down, closer than before. Her hand is back on his leg, "Hannibal, do you think I'm crazy?"

She leans closer, but he doesn't move, "You aren't crazy."

She shakes her head, "I asked if _you_ think I'm crazy."_  
_

He smiles slightly, "I don't believe you are crazy in the slightest, though it doesn't matter what I think. It only matters what you think."

She hesitates only for a second before forcefully pushing her lips into his. He's still for a second, not surprised but not sure how to react. Torn between being human, being moral, and being the monster he is, he gently moves his lips in synch with hers. He isn't sure if he's being gentle, but her hands grasp his face and she sure isn't being gentle with him. He keeps his hands folded in his lap until she leans more heavily on him, trying to get him to lay back. He doesn't know if he feels nothing or if he feels something he can't register. But he does feel different. Uncomfortable, would be the word someone would use. Ego-dystonic is the sensation, and he isn't used to feeling so...out of control. Yet his face doesn't register anything, and he realizes his eyes were closed. He opens them to see hers are closed, and one of her hands settles on his chest and he allows himself to be pushed back a bit. Her tongue finds his and she tastes almost good enough to eat. He lets his hands come up to touch her hair, and he reminds himself to be gentle. He tries to connect himself to what this is and what it means and wonders if he's feeling arousal or attraction. He can't identify anything, and when her hand brushes the front of his pants, he comes back to his senses.

Mindful of what they would call, compassion, he gently eases her back a few inches. Their lips break and he calmly pulls himself from her reach. She looks devastated, embarrassed. "Abigail, I'm an adult, a mentor. You're troubled and vulnerable right now. That is highly inappropriate, and this certainly isn't the time."

She disregards half his statement and gets up to stand in front of him, "If this isn't the time, will there ever be one?"

He looks at her closely, intrigued by her inability to sense what he really is. He wonders if the attraction to him is overruling her natural fight or flight from danger. Yet, he doesn't think she's in any danger, so perhaps she has no reason to activate her fight or flight. Although, humans reactions can't be activated, their body does it for them. He reminds himself that he too, is human. Different, but human. And right now, the girl standing mere inches away from him isn't in any danger from him. In fact, she's safer with him than anywhere else right now. He'll protect her. He can't help but wonder if that's what love is to him, not wanting to harm them as he wants to harm the others. Typically, he resists his urges, but they just aren't there.

His hand comes up to brush her cheek, "I'm a psychologist, not a fortuneteller."


	2. Night

"Can I sleep here tonight?" She asks him, settling herself into one of his armchairs in the corner of the room. She removed her shoes and tucked her legs under herself and looks up at him expectingly. Her ease makes him uneasy, but he just eyes her with interest.

"I should return you to the hospital." She rolls her eyes, and he remembers she's a teenager and that's what teenagers do. He's surprising himself, her behavior isn't aggravating him. "I don't typically have over night guests," he adds, still not answering her question.

"I'll sleep wherever there's a television." He smirks at her assumption that he owns one. He does, but he never watches it. "Besides, I'm allowed to leave whenever I want. I just don't have anywhere to go."

He's leading her in the direction that will result in her wanting to stay with him, permanently. Even if he wanted her to, which he can't say he _didn't _want her to, it would compromise his entire lifestyle. It would alter his whole world, being... whatever it was he is to this girl. Continuing the bond they were forming could be catastrophic, considering he can't formulate a bond with her. He learned how to fake friendships and relationships on all levels, to the point where he almost believed they were real. They were real, that's what relationships were to him. She wasn't the same, she couldn't be kept double arms length away. A troubled, traumatized teen with a deep infatuation would require him to be closer than he wanted. Yet, the words left his mouth without proper thought, "Just for tonight, Abigail."

She was off the chair and in his arms in a minute. A hug; her arms tightly around his midsection and her face buried in the material that covered his chest. Calmly, he raised on arm to rest against her shoulder blade for a moment before shifting back slightly when it lasted longer than he felt it was supposed to. "Thank you Hannibal." Her light eyes looked up into his, and he smelt the rush of chemicals again as she felt her admiration towards him. The girl was terribly troubled, and fostering a relationship with her misguided feelings would only do more damage. He recalled when Will had said that he felt obligated to look after her now, since he was the one that left her an orphan. No one would question her being around him, a well known psychologist with a soft spot for a troubled teen who's life he'd saved. Her blood had ran through his fingers, warm and rich. Pumped directly from her heart and out of her wound and into his hands, his ideal moment. Yet, he'd clamped his hand on her neck and held her still enough that she wouldn't lose anymore. He'd saved this girls life when he himself would have inflicted a wound just like it.

She was still looking up at him, smiling slightly. "I can fix you a bed near the television, and something to eat. I must call the hospital to inform them you'll be staying tonight." He went to turn away from her, but her hand grabbed his.

"Won't they ask why I was here in the first place?" He didn't hold her hand nor pull his away, and it hung limply in her smaller one.

"I'll tell them after you escaped, you showed up here and you were upset. I'll tell them you fell asleep in my office so I'll return you in the morning." Putting his credibility at risk to allow her to stay with him wasn't something he ever thought he would do. But she interested him enough that he wanted to study her more. He even found himself thinking of her as a person and not just another human to analyze. He wasn't sure if he was doing it out of interest for her, or out of interest in what she was doing to him.

She let his hand go and he left to make his call.

She's direct, unbothered by the fact that she's totally alone with a strange older man. He isn't like that though, he doesn't use his strength and intellect against anyone that he doesn't plan on destroying. He has no plan on hurting her. He feels like a person spending time with another person, yet he is rarely alone with anyone outside the office. In fact, he's only alone with them when he's planned it that way. He thinks she should pick up on the vibe in the room, or at least be uncomfortable as a young female would be in this situation. He's intrigued further when she asks, "I don't have anything to sleep in, do you have something I can wear?" Her eyes skim from his feet to his face, "Unless you sleep like that, which wouldn't totally surprise me." Her innocence is even more interesting, and he's beginning to wonder if she's more aware of what he is then he thinks. Maybe she knows something is different, and she just doesn't care. Or maybe she's different too, maybe she is her father's daughter still and something happened inside of her. Maybe she understands him on a level no one ever could before, because of the man her father was. It would make sense that she would be less fearful, given her home environment.

"I do believe I can find something for you, and no dear girl, I don't sleep in a suit."

"Do you ever wear anything else?"

"Not in public," and he turns and heads down the hall. He hears her follow him, and when he opens the door to his bedroom he realizes no one has ever been in there before. He watches as she walks in behind him, taking in her new surroundings. He's curious as to what the look of the room will tell her about him.

"You keep everything so neat."

"That's rather easy to do when you live alone with no children," he says easily, opening the closet and taking a black pullover hoodie off a hanger. It's the only one he owns, and he never wears it. He doesn't even remember when or where he got it.

"Are you human?" She blurts out suddenly as he turns to hand her the sweatshirt, yet he doesn't miss a beat. She's observant, but her imagination carries her away.

"What would make you think I wasn't?" He raises an eyebrow and sits at the desk he has in his room. He watches her as she considers the question intently.

"It's not a bad thing if you aren't, I still want to be friends," he smiles slightly at her, resting his chin on his hand.

"We are friends, but that doesn't answer my question."

"I'm not sure exactly, I just feel you're different. You're too smart, too smooth, too good at everything; too good to be true," she eyes him suspiciously and he grins wider.

"I assure you dear Abigail, I am human. Not even a little supernatural, but I do thank you for the compliments."

"Then what are you?" She really wants an answer, he can see it in her eyes.

"I'm a gentleman, a doctor, and now I'm your friend, to name a few" She stares at him for a few more seconds, and he wishes he could read her mind. He's never been so close to having someone know what he was, yet she isn't even terrified. He can't smell a drop of fear, just the same scent as before mixed with interest and tiredness.

"Where's your bathroom so I can put this on?"

"Right outside on the left," and he got up to go fix her a place to sleep.

She joins him in the room as he's setting up a pillow and blanket on a couch in the sitting room with the television. His eyes absorb her wearing his sweatshirt and she smiles, "It smells like you."

"This is your room for the night, I'll bring you something to drink."

"You were right about you being a gentleman," she sits down and looks up at him. He fills a cup with water, crushing up half a sleeping pill and stirring it in to ensure she will actually sleep and not go snooping around. Returning, he finds her with one of his books on human behavior in her hands. She looks up, "Your job must be so interesting."

"It is, humans are fascinating creatures to study. Rather abstract." He sets the cup down, "You know where my room is, come get me if you need anything. I don't sleep much." He turns to leave, "Goodnight Abigail."

"Hannibal?" Her voice is quiet, unsure, and he turns again. "Will you stay until I fall asleep?"

"I thought that's why you wanted to be near the television?"

She looks away, and it's the first time he's sensed vulnerability from her. "I'm afraid of the nightmares."

He doesn't hesitate then, sitting in the arm chair next to the couch and she stretches out. He puts his hand on her arm, like he did in the hospital, "Rest your eyes, I'll stay don't worry."


	3. Visitor

He's learned to be very in tune to the noises his home makes, and at the slightest sound of the abnormal he's alert in seconds. Always ready, for anything and everything. That's his life, no rest for the wicked. So, when he hears someone at his front door right before they ring the bell, he's out of his light sleep and checking his watch in the same second. He glances at Abigail, her lids gently closed over her eyes in sleep. The bell didn't even cause her to stir. It's a little after ten, reason to make him suspicious enough. He stands and quietly moves to the front door. He checks the hole for a second before unlocking the door and opening it. "Is everything alright, Will?" Will stood there, hands buried deep in his pockets.

"I'm sorry I'm here unexpectedly and so late," the other man said quietly, his glasses nearly sliding off his nose.

Hannibal stepped out of his way, gesturing him inside, "As I've told you, Will. Never be sorry for coming to me. Please, come in."

Will stepped inside and Hannibal shut the door and turned the lock, "What can I do for you tonight, dear William?"

Will cleared his throat and rubbed his hands together, and Hannibal stood patiently, "Something just isn't sitting right with me."

"Have a seat, would you care for something to drink?" Hannibal headed for the kitchen before he could answer, returning with a cup of water that he set on a coaster next to where Will had sat down. "What's troubling you?"

"Abigail. I don't think it's set in for her that she has no one, and I feel guilty sleeping home in my own bed while she's at the hospital all alone."

Lector smiled slightly, Will's empathy was something else. Something he was slightly envious of. "I would say I was inclined to agree with you, Will. So you'll be glad to know I went to the hospital and retrieved Abigail and her belongings."

Will looked up at him, surprised, "Abigail is here?"

"Indeed she is, she's sleeping in my extra room as we speak," Hannibal said innocently. Will's look of surprise didn't falter.

"I was going to go up there and ask if she wanted company, I didn't think she'd be comfortable staying at my house."

"I only planned to have her here for a bite to eat, just to get her out of the hospital, but she asked to stay and I couldn't resist her," it was basically the truth. Will didn't seem surprised or suspicious anymore, and Lector was pleased to see how easy Will trusted what he said. Every word that seemed to leave his mouth, Will absorbed and accepted. He'd have to see just how far that trust could extend. "I have some left overs if you'd like, and you look exhausted. If you'd like to spend the rest of the night here, I'm sure Abigail would love to see you in the morning." He'd gone from never having overnight guests to inviting two people who considered him a friend, maybe more, to sleep in this very house. The thought was interesting to him. All of this was interesting to him. A big game with players that he seemed to have some sort of control over. How many lies and truths could be told without the whole story coming out? How much control did he have over each other the people he'd come to be involved with, and how long could he keep all this going? He enjoyed it, learning these people. He really thought he'd seen it all, until he met Will, Bloom, and Abigail. Crawford was typical, but the other three were special. Very special. He was growing bored of people and their predictable ways until he'd discovered these three fine individuals. If he'd been normal, he'd say he was proud to call them his friends. Instead, he wanted them to be part of his collection; players in this game that got bigger every day.

"I don't want to impose," Will said, torn between the yes and no. Hannibal could tell Will wanted to stay, he predicted that Will didn't even feel safe in his own home right now. Not because of the copycat killer, which would be ironic anyway, but because of the nightmares and demons that haunted him at night. Hannibal sensed Will was really beginning to count on him to be able to help him overcome his fears and darkness. That's what Lector wanted, Will to need him. And it was working, everything he'd wanted to happen was working out exactly as planned. He wouldn't call himself an evil genius, but he was, in fact, impressed. Manipulation was his middle name.

"You wouldn't be imposing at all, Will. I wouldn't have offered if you would be bothersome at all. I have plenty of room for you as well," Lector said honestly, and he knew Will was convinced.

"I appreciate it," Will said, slightly relieved that he wouldn't have to go home to his house. He'd wanted to stay here, but was too afraid to come right out and ask. He'd even made sure his dogs were all settled for the night before coming. He hadn't expected Abigail to be here, but he was hoping she would be a good opening conversation. He wasn't sure why, but when he was around Hannibal, he felt calmer. The bad thoughts and anxiety and stressed seemed to lesson. And Hannibal always listened intently and interpreted everything he needed to talk about. He knew it was because he was a psychologist and that's what he did, but Will really wanted to believe Hannibal did it so willingly because they were friends. He had friends, Bloom and Jack, but no one like Hannibal. He felt like Hannibal was someone he was actually becoming friends with, which was strange because the other man didn't seem to have friends either. But he trusted him, which said a lot. He knew he could come to him, when he needed him, like tonight.

"I do feel you're here for more reasons than that, Will." Hannibal knew, he always knew.

"I can't sleep, the nightmares are just getting too bad." And he could always be honest with him.

"Perhaps some sleeping medication and herbal tea could help with that, and I can observe your actions in your sleep and try to come up with something constructive to help you rest better." That's why he came here, this man always knew what to do and was willing to do it without anything in return.

"That is the real reason I came," he admitted shyly, "I knew you'd be able to come up with something to help me."

Hannibal smiled slightly before standing, "Well, Will. I am glad you know you can come to me, I'll always do my best to attend to you. Let me just go get that tea and I'll fix you a place to sleep."


	4. Nightmares

He leaves Will to his thoughts for a few minutes and goes to change into more comfortable clothing. He removes his suit and folds it neatly, even the dirty laundry gets folded. He slips a pair of sweats and a plain white t-shirt in it's place and leaves his socks on. He catches a look at himself in the mirror and stares for a moment, he feels so much like an animal at times that he forgets he looks just like the rest of the world. At first glance, he's no different, and it's the one thing about himself he's never been able to make sense of. How can someone be like him, and look like everyone else?

A cry of distress snaps him from his thoughts and he's down the hall and into Abigail's room in a second. She's tangled in the cover, her face tightened in distress and when she sees him, her expression changes to dread. "I had a nightmare, you said you wouldn't leave," her voice is shaking, and he sits beside her. She untangles herself, strangled choking sounds coming from deep in her throat as she tries not to cry, and fails as tears drip down her face. He extends an arm to her when she's freed herself, and she maneuvers herself under his arm and snuggles his chest.

"I'm sorry I left you, Abigail. I was just in the other room, Will came here as well," she sobs into his shirt, and he strokes the back of her hair and looks at the opened door to see Will standing there. Will looks from him, to Abigail, and back and their eyes meet. "What was your dream about Abigail?"

She cries a little harder, and he looks down at her. "My dad, he killed you and Will. When you came to my house, he killed you both." It's interesting, a dream about his death effecting her so deeply. She hadn't cried over the other victims. "When I woke up and you weren't there, for a second it felt like it really happened." She chokes at the end, clinging to him a little harder. He looks back up at Will again, and the other man has a deep frown and he crosses his arm.

Gently, he holds onto Abigail's shoulders and sits her upright. Her face is red and tearstained, and he can feel the moisture of her tears through his shirt. He looks her right in the eye as she sniffles, and he carefully wipes the last of her tears off her cheek. "I can assure you, Abigail, Will and I are fine. He's right here and so am I, your father can not harm anyone again. Will and I aren't going anywhere, nothing is going to happen to us." He knows it's empty promises, because he doesn't know what will become of him or Will. But for now, it seems to reassure her because she smiles slightly.

"I didn't mean to get so upset, I'm sorry."

The corner of his mouth pulls up a bit, "Don't be sorry, you're going through a very hard time. Without us you'd be alone, and that's scary."

He lets go of her shoulders, and she folds her hands in her lap. "You wont leave me alone, right?" There's so much meaning behind her words, he nearly feels uncomfortable answering with Will standing a few feet away.

"No, I promise." He pats her arm, "You really must sleep though, Abigail. What say you give it another try? Will and I will only be in the next room, and when he's settled I'll come back in here." She looks up at Will and smiles slightly.

"Hi, Will."

He comes into the room then and crouches in front of her, Hannibal looks at him intently. "Abigail, I know you're afraid of what's going to happen from here. Well, I'm promising you too that I won't let you face whatever it is on your own. You aren't a monster, you're a young lady who was dealt cards she can't play, but I won't be going anywhere." The proclamation makes Abigail smile wider, and it makes Hannibal curious. Will cut him out of the equation. _He's_ not going to let her face it alone, not _we._ For a paranoid moment, he wonders if Will subconsciously knows Hannibal can't be there for Abigail indefinitely, and he certainly isn't the proper person to help her heal and be her crutch, as Bloom called it. He knows the other man didn't mean it like that, but he can't help but wonder if Will's exceptional brain has already figured him out and Will isn't listening because he doesn't want to hear it. Will wants him to be his friend bad enough that the rest doesn't matter.

"Thank you, both of you. It's been a crazy time for me and you've both been so great," Abigail said, and she yawned. He remembered the sleeping pills then, and figured another wouldn't hurt.

"Let me fetch you something to drink and you can have a rest," he gets up and hears Will say something else to her that he can't make out, and then Will is following him into the kitchen.

"She's really having a hard time," Will says quietly from behind him, and he can feel Will's empathy from across the kitchen. He's careful to shield what he's doing as he crushes another pill and stirs it into the water.

"She's suffered a terrible tragedy. Her whole life has been turned upside down and changed forever, and now she's orphaned. She's a very strong and smart young woman though, she'll learn to cope and time will heal her," he replies calmly as he turns to head back to Abigail's room. Will doesn't follow him now, and when he returns, Abigail is back under the blankets and looking up at him.

"Here's your water, have a drink." She sits up and takes it from him, and he watches her finish the cup in a few big sips.

"Thank you, Hannibal." He takes the cup from her, and she smells the scent of her attraction again, and he finds himself slightly pleased she doesn't react that way to Will as well.

"It's my pleasure, Abigail." He turns to leave, but she stops him.

"Is Will alright?"

"He will be, he's afraid of the nightmares too, just as you are."

"You're strong enough for everyone, aren't you?" He turns around and looks at her, "Don't you ever need someone?"

Young adults are interesting to him, more so than adults and children. There emotions and thoughts are so much more intense and thoughtful. For some of them, at least. Some of them run so deeply as individuals, giving so much thought to the world around them. It's the between period where their minds still have traces of the curiosity, creativity, and innocence of a child, yet they have developed the capability to comprehend things way beyond themselves. They're extremely perceptive, the one's that have deeper personalities. There mind still has the luxury to wander about things that aren't financial and work related. She's observed him with her young mind, and he's never heard himself described from the eyes of a teenager, he almost wants to ask her to describe him; ask her what she sees. "I'm strong enough to offer stability and support in the ways I've been taught for my friends when they are in need. I've studied people, and I enjoy using my knowledge to help people, especially the one's I care about. I do need someone, sometimes. I'm more equipped to handle things on my own, Abigail." He should feel guilty, lying to this girl who is concerned for him; making her believe he is as human on the inside as he is on the outside.

"None of this is bothering you. What my father was, what happened to all of those girls. What's happening all around us, it has no effect on you?" She's so close he's almost sure she's figured it out. Part of him wants her too, to see what she does with that information, and the other part doesn't. He knows when she finds out, he may have to kill her despite not having the urge too. He has to protect himself and his lifestyle, and he likes Abigail. Genuinely, he likes her. Her company has no ill effects on him. What she does would annoy him if anyone else did it, but not her. She's different, and he wants her around him. Hurting her would be unpleasant for him.

"It does bother me, Abigail. All of it is effecting me, but I have the knowledge and insight into the human mind and behavior that allows me to understand everything that is going on around us; to make sense of it. There is nothing right about what happened to anyone, including you, but I'm a professional and it's my job to deal with things that don't seem to make any sense, and make some form of sense from them. Organize the unorganized, if you will. I can't do that if my mind is clouded." She ponders that for a moment and lays back down.

"You'll come back in here right?"

"Indeed, as soon as Will is settled. He's staying here too, you could both use some of my stability right now." They need him, and that's exactly what he wants. He got there a lot faster then he thought he would, maybe he is really that good. The power makes his fingers twitch. Satisfied with his answer, Abigail closes her eyes.


End file.
